Gavin and Jamelia

• Short story

• Sci-fi, set in 2204

• YA

• CW: death and grief

Fun Fact: This story was an Honorable Mention in the L. Ron Hubbard's Writers of the Future Contest (1st Quarter, 2024)

Playlist I listened to while writing/editing this story: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLfUhVC-N4WNeZoapXm_LXXHPZfElECxhf

Pinterest board for this story's vibes: https://pin.it/2Jw9h7UPd

Gavin and Jamelia have been trapped on a satellite orbiting Earth for five years. Mysterious supply packages arrive once a month, but they have no way of contacting anyone. They maintain their hope of returning to Earth, even though it seems as if no one is searching for them...

If only I could stare at the sun forever. But it will inevitably evade my eyes when it finishes fading behind the Earth’s horizon.

So, while the sunlight still stretches across the globe, I wait by the window. My fingers pinch the chilled edge of the metal desk. One of the marvels of being in low Earth orbit is that my hand can keep my whole body suspended in the air. Somehow, even after all this time, it still makes my elbow lock with jitters. Like I should be falling. But I can’t.

Even with the several layers of reinforced glass, I don’t dare to get closer to the view than the desk edge. I lived in the flat T-Territory outskirts on Earth, so I wasn’t accustomed to heights then, and certainly not now.

Gavin, being the adventurer he is, holds onto a handlebar right beside the window. He crouches on the ceiling, his short hair gently swaying with his breath. At this angle, the sun highlights the edges of his features— his round nose, the curves of his small ears, his soft brown skin.

He glances at me, breaking into a grin when he notices my staring. I don’t look away— he knows that I like watching him, and he doesn’t seem to mind my bluntness. It doesn’t make him shy to be admired anymore, especially after all the years of being trapped with a person who calls him by his correct pronouns. Sometimes, I think he might prefer it up here than back on Earth.

“We’re about to catch the sun on the horizon line.” Gavin says. “And yet, you’re not even looking at it.”

“Yeah I am.” I stare at him. “It’s reflected on your skin. Your hair too. Even your eyes.”

“You see the sun in my eyes?” He stretches out a hand, his fingers asking for mine. Comfortable with the silence that settles after his question, I respond by stretching out my hand in return. He’s a little too far to reach.

He pushes off the ceiling and maneuvers to the desk. His fingers link with mine. “It’s just a few more seconds.”

“The sun will come back.” I say, still finding more comfort in seeing his excitement about the sun than observing the sun itself. “Always does. But we won’t live forever.”

“Jamelia, how morbid.” He gives a delighted smile. His eyes aren’t on the sun anymore. He kisses my cheek, leaving a soft imprint of warmth on my skin. My chest lightens, not feeling the jitters from the window’s proximity as much now. “You know that thing will become a black hole one day, right? So technically, that sun won’t live forever.”

I shake my head. “A white dwarf, actually. And it depends on your concept of living.”

“Concept of living?” He warbles my words, making fun of them. He knows to push off the desk before I can reach his arm to give it a light slap. He laughs at the scrunched eyebrows I send his way. “You’re speaking technically again. I mean it when I say you should be on those press conferences with the astronauts— with Corelai, Maxence, and all them.”

The faux irritation in my expression lightens. Even though it’s not the first time he’s expressed that, the compliment strikes hope in me. Corelai, who spearheaded the recent re-exploration of other planets, doesn’t cease to impress me. Of all the limited entertainment options we have on this satellite, hearing about her is my favorite pastime. Every new update from her makes me think that she’ll somehow find Gavin and me on this satellite— just above Earth, but unable to send out a message for help.

I swipe the desk for the satellite communication settings. I look next to the external transmissions. Yep, the checkbox is still checked. No matter how many times I click on it, it doesn’t change. So we’re still stuck receiving communications, but unable to send any.

As the last bit of golden sunlight leaves my hands, I swipe away the desk settings. I’m left in the dark, silhouetted by the small lights on the desk edge. They’re quite like the tiny lights of the dark, spinning Earth. Before the dark can unnerve me, I press the button to turn the satellite lights on.

The sterile, white walls reappear, with all the things for our basic needs— cots on the walls, a shower stall, exercise equipment bolted to the wall, and bags filled with food and toiletries. Another shipment of bags should arrive today.

The shipments, which come once per month, indicate that someone knows we’re here. We wrote a note to them once and stuck it in the shipment— it was sloppy due to our limited writing-with-ketchup-in-space skills, but it was legible. Yet there was no note back, and no one’s come to get us.

Saying depressive thoughts out loud isn’t something Gavin and I really do anymore. It’s better to joke about all this instead. So I stay silent, since I can’t think of a light-hearted response to his compliment. My fingers drift across the desk, clicking until they find Gavin’s favorite song.

Strings and gentle piano keystrokes flow through the speakers. As somber as it sounds in this sterile environment, it’s also calming… and maybe even sweet.

Gavin laughs lightly as he closes his eyes, almost as if reliving the moment we danced to this on Earth. It wasn’t a special venue— school dances rarely are. Gavin had longer hair, and hadn’t quite figured out the dimensions for suits yet. But he was determined to find a tie that matched the color of my orange dress, soft like sunlight.

When the song goes into the next verse-like portion, Gavin’s bright smile comes out. “You didn’t play this to get out of exercising, did you?”

“We could dance instead.”

He laughs. Of course, “dancing” in space isn’t so much dancing. More like we spin through the satellite, careful to push off the walls before we run into them. But still, the drifting is comfortable. Almost like we can blend into the environment— like a binary star floating in the dark void outside, unconcerned with how bright we burn in such a desolate universe.

My foot pushes off the desk. My fingers clasp one of the bars, placing me next to Gavin. When he offers his hand, possibly coming around to the idea of “dancing,” I poke his hand furiously. Even though there’s no way my stubby nails are hurting him, he exclaims with lots of dramatic ow’s.

I narrow my eyes. “If you think dancing is humorous, you’ll really like it when I beat your running distance.”

His mouth transforms into an ‘o.’ “You think you can do it?”

“I always do.”

He rubs his chin. His expression becomes less challenging, more like he just remembered something. “Hey, do you think I should cut my hair? It’s getting a little long.”

He probably just remembered the lack of stubble on his chin. The packages to the satellite unfortunately don’t include hormones. Hair cutting has been an understandable distraction here— at least there’s something in our lives we can control.

Joking around it, I say, “Hey, don’t think you can change the subject.” Still, I pinch a bit of brown hair floating over his forehead. His breath changes the direction the hair floats. The little bit in my fingers isn’t as soft as his hair used to be. “It looks fine, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He shrugs. “I guess you’re the only person I have to impress.”

“Oh yeah. You impressing me is clearly in the top list of our priorities.”

He leans forward, pecking me on the lips too quickly for me to anticipate. I jolt from the embarrassed warmth shooting through my cheeks.

He pushes off the wall, flying towards the exercise equipment corner. He doesn’t turn away though— not only confident of not running into the wall, but also so smug in wanting to see my expression. “Now who’s changing the subject?”

I feel my eyebrows pinch, but I also can’t help smiling at this dork. I push toward the corner and strap into the elliptical-esque running machine as Gavin’s favorite song finishes playing through the speakers.

While Gavin tugs on the resistance-band like system to exercise his arms, I press forward on the elliptical. My heart pounds harder in my chest as beads of sweat float off my forehead. Every few minutes, I rub my forehead with my shirt sleeve, attempting to absorb the droplets of sweat before they glob up on my face.

I jog for an hour and get just a little further than Gavin’s distance from yesterday. I point out the distance for him to beat as I slow the elliptical to a stop.

Gavin groans. “You’re such an overachiever.”

“It’s just the bare minimum.” I unbuckle the straps, rubbing out the tension in my shoulders one at a time as I grab onto the wall. Corelai and the official astronauts out there have to exercise for two hours each 24-hour period, so Gavin and I do too. If it works to keep their bodies from atrophying, hopefully it’ll work for us.

“If I could tell my gym classmates to look at me now.” Gavin spreads his arm out toward the window showing the dark side of the Earth. “I might actually be good at track by now.”

“You remember that we’re doing this because we’ll suck at track if—” I catch my words. “When… we get back to Earth.”

“I know. Gravity’s going to kick my ass.” Gavin rubs his forehead with a wane smile.

I wonder if, at a certain point, it’ll be better for us to stay up here instead. I leave that thought behind. “It’s okay. I’ll carry you to the finish line. You ready to switch?”

“Yeah, give me a minute.” Gavin unbuckles himself from the resistance training setup, and we switch machines. More sweat grows on my skin, and every time I almost decide to stop, my skin feels charged with the electric impulse to exercise just a bit longer.

When the elliptical timer reaches an hour, Gavin huffs with a shake of his head. “I was close. Just a few meters off. I think it’s just because you’re tinier.”

I’m literally an inch shorter than him, but this is the usual excuse that he pretends is good evidence for his argument. I disentangle myself from the resistance band setup. “Sure. This tinier person gets to shower first though.”

“Oh?” He pushes toward me. His arm loops around a handlebar on the wall, perhaps in faux seduction. Beads of sweat trail behind him and are quickly sucked into the airflow system. “You won’t even give me a chance to convince you otherwise?”

As he reaches to wrap his arm around me, I push off the wall with a laugh. “Get your sweaty self away from me!”

“I’d be less sweaty if I showered!” He flings his hand.

I gently push my palm against the floor, guiding me to the shower stall. I unclip a clean clothing bag off the wall beside the shower. “I guess you’ll have to convince me before you’re sweaty next time.”

He rolls his eyes without holding back a sheepish grin. He floats to the desk, typing at the keys. “I guess I’ll have to read this New York Thyme’s most recent Corelai interview without you.”

I smile before I can think about it— his joking voice always does that to me. After I clamp the shower stall door closed, I link my feet through a bar on the floor to change. “I can read it later.”

“Let’s see… wow, it’s already March 2204. It says they’ve been journeying through space for around three years together. Corelai and Maxence, I mean. We’ve been here longer, but they’ve been to more places.” Gavin says.

I twist open the cap for the liquid soap and water, then start rubbing it into my skin. The repetitive movement is helpful for focusing my thoughts. “Yeah, I mean, given that they pretty much rejuvenated space exploration after over like a hundred years of disinterest, it kind of makes sense that they’re the ones who’ve been to so many places.”

“Yeah, I know, but still. You think— well. I don’t know. After we get back to Earth… would it be silly to want to back to space? Like, we’ve got experience with it. We could be their interns or something.”

The chances of meeting Corelai and Maxence seem so little, even while being in their work environment. But the thought of interning for them actually makes me giggle. “We could bring them their tea in their spaceship.”

“Yeah!” Gavin laughs, maybe over-enthusiastic about me not rejecting the idea outright.

I’ve been interested in space for the past few years, but I really learned the most about it after being stranded up here. The access to the Earth’s Mainframe has been helpful for learning anything there is to know online. I used to read on it obsessively; Gavin had to practically yank my fingers from the keyboard on several occasions.

Would I still be interested in space after all this? Unease drips into my mind as I pull the hairband out of my ponytail, letting my coily hair billow out as I rub rinseless shampoo through the strands.

“Looks like today’s the next shipment day.” Gavin says. Even if he tries to sound nonchalant about it, I imagine it’s been on his mind.

“I’ll get it.” I respond.

We don’t talk about it much, but that’s his main unreasonable fear. My main unreasonable fear is that if I get too close to the window, I might break through it. His is that the docking station will malfunction when the next shipment comes in. We call them unreasonable because there’s no reason the window or the docking station will malfunction after all this time.

Still, that’s why I volunteer to get the shipment boxes each month. They’ve been consistent for the last five years. There was only one month about a year ago when one didn’t arrive. We had to ration the previous month’s supplies, and our paranoia increased. It was a miserable experience.

But it’s been consistent since the month after that.

“Thanks.” Gavin says.

The humming airflow system beside me gets most of the water droplets; it’ll recycle it, along with our sweat, the vapor of our breath, and… well, other liquids. I gently press the towel into my hair, getting the rest of the water from the shower. “Of course.”

After I change into the new clothes, I drag the bag of my previous clothes out of the shower stall and, while holding my breath, secure it inside one of the boxes we designated for dirty clothes.

Gavin eagerly snatches a new clothing bag and surges into the shower stall. I smile at his urgency.

I kick off the wall into a spin, enjoying the flow of the clean clothing following my arms and legs. It’s a little too big, but I’d rather have a clean outfit that’s too big than no outfit.

The chime notification we usually hear once a month emanates from the desk. My gaze snaps to it, confirming that the docking process is beginning for the delivery. Relief seeps into my breath. Whoever is sending the supplies hasn’t given up on us yet.

I unlatch the boxes from last month off the wall— full of empty food, water, toiletry packets and bags of clothes and waste. I loop their long straps around my arms as I push myself to the docking bridge entrance. “The delivery’s here. I’ll go swap the boxes.”

“Okay.” Gavin calls from the shower stall.

It goes as it normally does. I press the buttons, go through the white tunnel, and open the capsule on the other side. It contains four padded, white delivery boxes. I secure the old boxes and pull the new ones into the tunnel with me.

I breathe a little easier as I clip the new boxes to the satellite wall. I confirm with the desk that I’m done with the delivery capsule. The desk reads that it's undocking.

“We’ve got more stuff, Gavin.” I say, checking each of the boxes. They’ve got such a new, sterile smell in comparison to the lived-in stench of the satellite. After taking a quick whiff, I close the boxes, hoping to preserve the smell.

“Nice.” He floats out of the shower stall, still shoving a clean shirt over his head. “Any cake this time?”

“Didn’t see any.” I say, giving a slim smile at the question he asks each time. They’ve never sent desserts. They literally always send the same proteins and vitamins to keep us alive.

They. Who even are they?

I toss him a shiny dinner pack. “We’ll just have to make some after we get back. Well, I’ll have to. Your muscles will be so bad you won’t be able to hold a whisk.”

Gavin scoffs as he clicks open the top of the vacuum-sealed dinner pack. He starts sucking on it while twisting slowly through the air, not holding onto any of the walls. Between sips, he says, “You know, the interview said Maxence still drops his tea when he’s on Earth. Like, he’s gotten so used to letting things go without gravity.” Gavin demonstrates, letting the dinner pack float by his hand. “But how do you just forget that after a few months in space?”

“I imagine it becomes second nature.” My eyes trail out to the space beyond the window. I hardly keep my eyes off it as I grab a dinner pack and unseal it. The grainy liquid seeps onto my tongue in a savory blend of unnamable flavors. “This is actual nature. Earth is just one microcosm of a deviant circumstance. Most of the universe is a void. This should be more normal than what most people experience.”

Even as I say the words, disbelief pounds in my chest, much like my uneasy heartbeat. Do I want this to be normal?

How could I even feel that way? My grandmother might still be alive in the suburbs. I keep wondering what’s happened to her. She’s never been one to post anything online, so it’s not like I can find out from here. I hate the thoughts that come before bed, when I wonder what she thinks happened to me.

Our classmates must’ve not said anything about what happened. Otherwise, someone would’ve come gotten us. Or maybe they did say something, and that’s why we get the supplies. And now we’re just an experiment to them.

“Hey.” Gavin’s fingers brush against my arm. His eyes are soft, his eyelids drooping in concern.

I shake my head, trying to dispel the heat rising in my throat. “Nothing. Just thinking about… things.”

“Things?” Gavin’s eyes glance toward the window. Towards Earth.

“Yeah.” I confirm.

He sighs. Even if he doesn’t know which exactly of the many bad thoughts I could be referring to, he doesn’t press further. Usually I clam up if he asks much further than this. And there’s not really anywhere to hide here to get alone space except the bathroom or shower stall, and that’s fairly uncomfortable. The less discomfort we can have with each other, the better.

Although we did once have quite the shouting match. Pent up anger and confusion from a few months really got to us. But then I pointed out how there is silence in space, so if someone saw us from outside, we’d look like a silent film. Somehow, that made Gavin laugh enough for us to talk a little calmer. We’ve had arguments since, but we’ve tried to keep them light. Any anger we have against the universe shouldn’t go to each other. We’ve got fitness machines to deal with that.

“Do you want to go to bed early? Or would you rather do some more exercise?” Gavin asks, hoping to help without being too direct.

Even with the resurfaced thoughts that I can’t control, I manage a decision. “Rest could be nice.”

After finishing our dinner, brushing our teeth, and dimming the interior lights, we wrap ourselves into one of the cots on the wall. My arms slide around Gavin, holding his sturdy back. Even with his arms around me, his warm touch is so light— the weight of our touch isn’t so strong here, not like on Earth. His lips press gently on my skin, first on my cheek. He asks, “Do you want to talk about it?”

I breathe out through my mouth, a light sigh on his cheek in return. “It’s depressing.”

“I’d rather you share your depressing thoughts than keep them inside.”

“Would you?” I push my back against the cot fabric, trying to see his face fully. “It’s just… this whole thing, again. And there’s not even any point thinking about it. It won’t change anything. I can’t figure out how to build anything to send a signal to Earth to beat that stupid checkmark. We’re just here and we don’t even know why. They could be just watching us as some kind of sick experiment.”

Gavin’s mouth warps slightly before swallowing.

My eyelids drop. “Thanks. You almost made me think you weren’t about to laugh.”

A sly smile sneaks back onto his lips. “So, is it okay to laugh at the thought of people watching us like some sick experiment?”

I lightly whack his arm. “I’m serious.”

“I know. I don’t mean to laugh at you. I’m sorry.” His smile settles. “Yeah, this could be some experiment. But that won’t change anything. I just want to keep us both going until we can leave, you know? And I’m not saying we can’t seriously be depressed about anything… it’s just harder for me to think that way and keep going.”

Who knows, maybe his way of dealing with this is better. Either way, I tuck my head against his shoulder. I’m not sure what else to say, so I don’t say anything.

The way the two of us hold each other at night is always the most comforting part of all this. Even the view of the sun on the horizon can’t beat it. But I can’t think of the cots without thinking of when we strapped ourselves into them, clinging onto each other as we screamed, unheard as the satellite shot into the atmosphere with us in it.

All just because we went with a couple of classmates to see a satellite, because they wanted to show off how their parents were part of this startup space corporation. They dared us to go inside. I was too curious and hasty— I didn’t hesitate to see the inside of a real satellite up close. Gavin was too adventurous and loyal— he wouldn’t back out from a dare, especially if I was doing it too. We wanted to see the inside with the door shut, and pretend we were astronauts visiting the satellite in space. We didn’t know it would lock us inside. And even with our panicked classmates pointing through the window, indicating that they’d get help… no one came back.

A tear slips out of the corner of my eye. I sniffle, keeping the fluids inside. The tear sits on my cheek, not rolling anywhere until I rub it off with my hand. I settle back into Gavin’s embrace, and I feel his head press against mine.

As I drift into sleep, the window grows larger. Like space is pressing closer. Like I could fall right through that glass, cascading to Earth in eternal free-fall, bracing for the moment when it all ends. I reach out for Gavin, hoping he can pull me back up— he’s painfully out of reach.

The desk chime wakes me. It doesn’t give many notifications. Just when there’s a livestream I’m interested in or there’s a delivery, but there shouldn’t be any astronaut livestreams anytime soon, and the delivery was today. At first, I think it’s just a dream, but Gavin shifts too. He blinks, looking toward the desk.

“Hey, the desk is lighting up.” He mutters sleepily. The bluish glow of the desk reflects off the wall and cot fabric around us.

The darkness, especially with the window just beyond the desk, creeps over my skin. I can’t read the notification text from here. An unnerving pressure to stay where I am overwhelms my curiosity.

“It’s okay. I’ll check it out.” Gavin kisses my forehead and unravels himself from the cot.

Pinpricks of nervousness seethe the back of my neck. I don’t want him to go alone, so I unwrap myself from the cot as well. I join him at the desk.

The blue text reads: “Is anyone there?” There’s an answer box beneath it.

I blink, looking between Gavin and the text. His stunned face wakens me well enough— this is an actual message. Is it really to us?

I take the keyboard, my fingers eager to respond. My hovering hands start to tremble. “What do I write?”

Gavin shakes his head, nearly stammering, “I— I mean, yes. Say yes.”

I tip my head, considering the stagnant text. A new message arrives after it, reading, “This is Corelai, an astronaut writing from our ship, the Valexander 3. NASAX detected this unregistered emergency housing satellite, but it requires docking permissions. Hopefully there’s someone on board we can talk with. Even if you would prefer correspondence over this messaging system, we would appreciate if you responded. Otherwise, we will attempt a forceful docking.”

I reread the words, barely registering the meaning. My eyes skip over sentences, trying to muster the ability to respond. Am I really awake?

“Holy gods.” Gavin’s breath coaxes my ear.

His voice snaps me back into focus. My fingers type: “Yes, Gavin and I are here; I’m Jamelia. We’ve been trapped in this satellite for the past few years. How do we enable you to dock?” I hit send.

As my eyes watch for any change in the screen, I count my breaths… one, two, three, four, five…

A new message from Corelai blips onto the screen. “I’ll send another docking request directly to this feed. You can allow us in from there. I plan to go through the docking tunnel, along with a team of four others to explore the satellite. We would also appreciate if you could answer some questions about how you ended up trapped there. Then we can drop you two off wherever you want to go.” The docking request appears.

I grin, encouraged when I meet Gavin’s excited eyes. I confirm the acceptance of the docking request. Then I send, “Docking request should be accepted. We’d love a ride to Earth.”

I add, “Fair warning— the satellite might not smell the nicest.”

Gavin snorts. I wrap my arms around him, giddy from the moment. I won’t believe it for certain— not until I see Corelai. For all I know, this could be some trick, or a dream. I won’t give into hope just yet.

But my drumming heart inside my head gives away my excitement. Could this really be it? Did we make it out?

As a new notification pops up, saying how the docking bridge is being established, a message responds, “I would be suspicious if it didn’t smell after a few years. We can bring you back to Earth. We’re on our way over.”

The docking chamber door beeps. My heart jolts from the confirmation. They exist. My breaths accelerate, feeling the thrum of the docking chamber’s connection like the blood surging through my body.

I press the door, sliding it open with a hiss.

Down the bridge corridor, five fully suited NASAX astronauts float toward us. My eyes dart between their helmets. Through one of the helmets, Maxence’s sharp eyes scrutinize the hall. My skin shivers and tears squeeze out of my own eyes— I see Corelai. They’re really here.

“Gavin.” I push back to the desk, wrapping my arms around him. His hands claw at my back. I barely discern his shudders apart from my disbelieving body. “It’s them. They’re here. We made it.”

His sniffles echo in my ears.

I pull away, eager to meet Corelai at the entrance. Corelai’s hand pauses at the rim of the docking seal, holding herself up. Many others follow— they seem to be talking among themselves inside the helmets. Seeing movement of multiple people after all these years— it’s so strange. Tears blob up in the corner of my eye, forcing me to quickly wipe it with my shirt sleeve.

Corelai’s helmet retracts, and so does Maxence’s. The astronauts who set in motion the resurgence of space exploration. They really found us.

Corelai shakes her head with an optimistic smile. Her nose crinkles for a moment as her squinting eyes scan the satellite. “Whoo, you weren’t kidding about the smell. Are you Jamelia?”

Her voice. It’s the same strong voice I heard in her livestreams. I can’t be making this up.

I nod, barely able to think.

“Such a small space. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through.” Corelai looks around again, watching as the astronauts journey through the space. “Especially since we really didn’t know this place existed until today. If you could fill us in on everything you know, that would be great. Whenever you and Gavin are ready, we can take you on board the Valexander and get you back to Earth.”

Maxence, hovering around the docking bridge door with some kind of scanner, says, “Odd. This has received a lot of shipments. But you’ve been stranded here?”

I nod again. My excitement manages to push out words this time. “Yeah, there were a lot of supply shipment capsules. Once a month, really. But it didn’t seem safe for people to return to Earth in it. The speeds it went were always too great. But yeah, Gavin and I are definitely ready. We’ll answer whatever you ask.”

“And no one’s left through this?” Maxence asks.

“Sh.” Corelai waves a hand at him. “We can ask them more details later. Let’s get them to a safer space first. Jamelia, is Gavin in one of the bathroom stalls?”

I blink for a moment, looking at Gavin’s confused expression. I gesture to him. “This is Gavin.”

Corelai’s dark eyes look between me and Gavin with a soft, confusing gaze. Something solemn sinks into her face. My chest compresses— I don’t like that look.

“No, seriously.” Maxence says, not looking away from his readings. “This reads that someone left through here. But not… left. There’s exposure on the docking rings— it was ejected forcefully with someone in it.”

Ejected forcefully. Pain squeezes my mind. That’s not what happened. I don’t want to think about it. The delivery just didn’t arrive that month. That’s all.

Gavin’s fingers loosely cover mine; they’re so light, like they were never there. I pull away, shaking my head. I can see him. Why can’t they see him?

Gavin floats in front of my vision, trying to lock his sad eyes with mine. “Jamelia. Come on, look at me.”

“You’re here. Why can’t they see you?” I mutter. My throat shakes, making words and breathing difficult.

“You made it, Jamelia.” Gavin kisses my forehead. His soft lips linger, like a ghost of a kiss. “You have to leave me here.”

I don’t want to admit it. I don’t want to remember the day he went to get the shipment boxes. When he was coming back through the tunnel, and something went wrong, and if he opened the airlock, the air would’ve been sucked from the satellite. The day he mouthed through the door, “you have to make it.” He probably couldn’t hear my screams as he sent the shipment and bridge out to space, freezing himself and losing all his air in the process. Just a year ago.

More tears build up, just as uncontrollably as the emotions surging up my throat. It’s choking me— I can’t speak through it all.

“Gavin.” Corelai speaks, catching my attention through my blurred vision. She looks where I’ve been looking. Gavin watches her, almost stunned at the uncanny way she seems to see him. “Thank you for watching out for Jamelia, and I’m sorry we were too late to bring you back.” Her eyes soften with a slight smile. “We’ll take care of her. She’ll make it back to Earth.”

Gavin smiles in response. It’s such a strong resemblance. The best smile I could remember. More dark emotions build up in response, circling through my stomach, gnawing away at my intestines as the reminder of grief I never let be. Grief for someone who was so strong, his memory encouraged me through what he didn’t survive.

But if he’s not here, we’ll never dance on Earth again. And what am I supposed to tell his parents?

My tears take up too much of my vision, and I close my eyes. They itch. I rub them with my sleeve, trying to erase everything I see and everything I remember. I want to go back to being trapped with him; that was better than this.

“I love you.” His voice lingers in my ears, just as strong as the last time he said it to me.

He’s not there when my eyes open. Anguish claws through my chest, ripping open the pain I kept concealed. Even as I feel myself let out an internal scream, my ears don’t hear anything beyond the whimpering that emerges from my mouth. There’s so much hurt— I don’t want Gavin to go.

Corelai holds out her hand, slowly letting it rest against my shoulder. The touch is so much stronger than Gavin’s; I convinced myself it was the weightlessness that made his touch so light. This isn’t the memory of a touch, but the physical reality of one. “Why don’t you both come onto the ship?”

A series of muted tones of sadness blanket over my body, like it’s trying to suffocate the grief. “He’s gone. You don’t have to pretend.”

My own words make me flinch. Pretending. Is that all it was?

Corelai looks at Maxence, who already watches her with concern. Corelai sighs as she looks back at the docking tunnel. “When you experience enough dangerous situations, you’ll find a lot of death in your path. And you’ll find that the mind will come up with some strong ways of coping with it.” Her eyes return to me. “Don’t let anyone convince you that he has to be gone. If that’s what you want, or what you need, come to it on your own. In the meantime, let’s get you to the ship. I’ll take your vitals, ask some questions, and personally escort you to Earth.” She pushes herself to the tunnel, looking back to see what I’ll do.

My body squeamishly doesn’t want to move. Like if I choose to push off the desk, I’ll risk breaking something. If I move, I might be ripped through the window, falling to the Earth. Before, I was drifting in the satellite. Now, without Gavin, I risk crashing into the ground.

But I gently kick off the desk, following Corelai’s wary eyes. When I reach her, we push ourselves down the tunnel. I look back at the satellite, seeing the movement of astronauts in there. Such a different sight. I’m finally leaving it behind.

Corelai grips the wall, pushing herself through to the rocket. I mimic her movements, trusting her directions while my eyes wander through the hive of gray halls. Astronauts soar through the cavities, utilizing the handles and various materials meticulously crowding the walls.

Corelai leads me into a room with an even cleaner smell. Medical equipment and boxes are attached to the walls. Corelai pulls a tablet from the wall and starts typing on it. “So, to speed this along, can I ask where you want to be dropped off on Earth? And if you have anyone I should contact.”

“I live in the northwest outskirts of Houston. Inland.” I relay. Such a faraway place now. Sometimes Gavin and I could see it from the satellite window, and we’d wave. “My grandmother, Verity Johnson.”

Corelai nods, typing on her tablet. She then moves a beeping device over my wrist, recording numbers— I briefly see my pulse and blood pressure. “Alright, thanks. I just told my team. They’re working on getting you to the nearest NASAX rehabilitation facility there. Lucky for you, Houston’s one of my early workspaces. I got my engineering roots from there, and Dallas. If you don’t mind the coast, it should be a nice place to get your gravitational bearings. Maxence had a hard time there his first time though— one day he lost it and yelled at the rain to stop.” She flinches, then bites her lip with an embarrassed smile. “Sorry, Maxence.” She clicks a button on her suit. “Forgot that I’m not muted. Anyhow, if you could tell me more about yourself. What’s your name, how did you get on that satellite, anything you think would be relevant to our report. And we can get more information from you later, but it might be best to get most of it off your chest now. Memories tend to disappear over time, after all.”

Her kind eyes match her friendly tone. The one I’ve idolized for years, and even wished would find us on that satellite, is really here. Her radiant energy keeps my focus, like the sun; I don’t want her to disappear over the horizon. “You’re really as nice as you seemed in the livestreams.”

Her eyebrows raise, and a slight smile forms. “Thank you, Jamelia. Were you able to watch the livestreams from the satellite?”

I nod. I know she wants to know more about the satellite and why we were there. But that means talking about Gavin. Even now, in this completely new environment, all of it slips away like a dream. “I always hoped you’d come rescue us. Gavin said we should apply to be your interns, if we ever— when we got off.” Still trying to be optimistic. My teeth clench at the thought. Why should I bother with optimism now?

Corelai tips her head, considering. “That’s not a bad idea.”

My chest lightens. “What— really?”

She nods. “From what I know, this satellite has been up for the past five years. The space company startup that sent it up went bankrupt a couple years ago, but we found that their CEO had been sending packages here once a month. We figured there had to be someone there, as the package sizes would’ve filled the capsule otherwise by now. We just got the warrant to search the satellite today. So, from what I know, you and Gavin managed to survive four to five years here. An impressive amount of time for anyone— especially two untrained teenagers from the outskirts. So, if you’re not too traumatized by all this, which would be understandable…” Corelai pats my shoulder. Again, her touch draws me into the moment. “I’ll get you an internship with me. And if you aren’t sick of space by then, I’ll personally write you a letter of recommendation if you apply to become an astronaut of your own right.”

A future. A really good future. One that’s literally being handed to me by my idol. It’s something to hang onto. Something to keep me going for at least the next couple of years.

“Gavin and I went into the satellite when it was on the ground. A couple of classmates were showing us around— one of them, their parents worked there. So they brought us there and dared us to go inside.” I manage to divulge the start of it. And with Corelai’s guiding questions, I describe what we went through. How we went through our days— getting competitive over exercising, enticing each other into dancing, showering with barely any water, holding each other through our nightmares, kissing under the light of the setting sun.

When Corelai seems to write down enough, I feel empty. My chest is hollow, with all the words extracting the constant anxiety that had built up there. Even my head is numb. Like all the thoughts that I had are gone, poured out into the open, for Corelai to collect and accumulate on her tablet.

“So, it seems my team got the CEO to talk. Do you want to know why they left you in the satellite, or would you rather I tell you later?” Corelai asks.

My numb body manages to nod. “I want to know.”

“The council for his aerospace company, back when your classmates and their parents said that the two of you were trapped inside, decided that it would make a good story. They were already close to bankruptcy, and their initial plan was to make the satellite a place for emergency housing if astronauts occasionally needed space to stay in. But you two being there changed the plan— they hoped that if they sent you to space without anyone knowing, they could bring you back. The blame would’ve gone to your classmates and their parents for purposely trying to sabotage your lives. But they couldn’t get enough money to set up their ideal rescue mission, so they’ve been sending you packages to keep you alive until they could figure out how to stage their rescue mission without giving away that they knew about you the whole time. Apparently, the CEO never lost hope on reviving their company, and kept you isolated from the Earth in the meantime.”

So numb. I can’t speak. I can’t think. It wasn’t even an experiment— just a story. That’s all we were.

Even when Corelai’s sad eyes read a notification, telling her that my grandmother died about a year after I was trapped on that satellite, my heart jerks, but my head doesn’t think. My body barely moves. Just breathes. There’s really no one for me to go back to.

She tells me that the CEO of the ex-space company, and the ex-space company itself, will face a ton of legal repercussions. She says Gavin’s family will be told— about how he survived for so long, and about how he saved me.

When Corelai goes outside the door, I barely hear the conversation she has. She talks over her speaker with Maxence about the spare room they have in Houston. It’s decided that if I want to, I can stay with them until I can get on my feet.

It’s like the whole world is telling me to keep moving. Even Gavin’s memory told me to keep going. But my body doesn’t want to move. My mind barely has enough in it to thank Corelai right now.

The return to Earth is a blur. Corelai has me strap into a capsule. A small ship connected to the Valexander. She kisses Maxence and tells him that she’ll be back up tonight.

We hurtle through the atmosphere. Burning through the bright and dark that I stared upon for years. Colors come back— more than the white of the satellite and clouds and the gold of the sun and lights at night and the dark blue of the sea and the dark black of the Earth’s night and the void. Bright blue. The sky. The clouds. It’s coming back to me.

The seat shudders, my fingers clamp together. My vision bounces. Everything is out of focus, but Corelai has such focus on the window. Even with all the chaos, she looks in control of the environment.

I want that too.

As we break out of the tumble, the ship glides toward the Earth. I lean toward the window. Over the edge, there’s land. Actual green and dirt up close. Flying and grounded cars look like ants streaming over pavement. But I’m close enough to see cars again.

My sweaty skin squishes further into the barely cushioned chair. Like I’m being jammed into the seat. The air is like a weighted blanket crushing over me. My head and fingers and anything not strapped down loll with the movement of the ship.

I see trees. Pavement. Buildings. Cars. Even people directing planes on the runway. So close.

The jerk of the ground slams into my heart, alarming and jostling my whole body with the impact of the earth.

The noise. The brakes screech in my ears. The sun through the window gnaws at my skin. I can’t do anything as we slow to a stop. My eyelids close— I can’t get them open again. They’re so heavy.

A hum comes from my throat when I try to say Corelai’s name. My tongue and teeth won’t move. It’s too difficult.

Corelai groans. “Ah, I’m feeling that after a couple of months in space. I can’t imagine what you’re experiencing right now, but trust me when I say everything is probably normal. Muscles you didn’t think were important to exercise are suddenly difficult to use. Don’t worry— it’ll come back with time. We’ve got the technology to help accelerate the healing process.”

It’s so heavy. Breathing is heavy. Everything’s so heavy. It compels the numbness of my grief to weigh on me even more— Gavin’s memory becomes so heavy too.

As a tear escapes my left eye, it drips. Normally it just globs up and eventually hops off my face. This time, it sticks to my face, running down my cheek like glue.

The buckles on my chest click and my straps lift. “It’s okay, I’m here.” Corelai assures. “I’m taking off your straps. A team of medics are going to lift you out of here and into a wheelchair. We’re at the spaceport outside the rehabilitation center you’re signed up for. You’ll receive a device that’ll translate your brainwaves into speech, which will help until you can talk comfortably again. You’ll get through this, Jamelia.”

You made it— Gavin’s words echo in my mind. More tears slip down my cheek, wadding up like glue, following the same stream as the previous.

As I’m lifted out of the capsule, my limb body drips toward the earth. My immobile fingertips long to feel the ground. I can smell the dirt. Pavement. Air. Trees. Some kind of pine. Some mud, like it recently rained. The air is humid, dripping with vapor. I can taste it on my skin.

The sun. It’s here too. Its warmth drenches me. The light brightens my closed eyes; the orange and red behind my eyelids can’t deny the brightness of midday. I know it’s beautiful without seeing it. Like I said, the sun came back; always does. Even if we don’t live forever. Maybe I can cope with that concept of living, if at least the sun will outlast me.

“I love you.” His voice lingers in my ears, just as strong as the last time he said it to me.

My eyelids flit open. He’s not there. I know he isn’t. But in the brief moment that I see the blinding sun, I see the highlights in the edges of his features, the gleam in his grin, and the sun in his eyes. And I know I’ll make it through.